


Where You Are

by DreamerInSilico



Series: Angela Ziegler, Gay Disaster [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Dissociation, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Post-Fall of Overwatch, both literal and more emotionally, prompt: Remorseful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-16 03:00:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17541401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamerInSilico/pseuds/DreamerInSilico
Summary: An injury and an unplanned reminiscence.





	Where You Are

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a Dreamwidth prompt table - "remorseful"
> 
> This fic almost didn't get written because I had "this is too easy to apply to too many of my ships to actually pick one and write it" paralysis.

“Amé?” Angela asks, concerned.  Amélie has stopped her busy slicing of vegetables and is simply staring down at her hand.  Her eyes look as though they are seeing much farther than that.

Stepping closer, Angela can see the dark welling of blood against Amélie’s still faintly blue-tinged skin, and she hastens for the first aid kit.  “Let me see,” she says firmly, taking Amélie’s long-fingered hand in her own to assess what appears to be a rather deep slice into her forefinger. It will need sutures.  The blood has run nearly across her whole hand, somehow.

Amélie remains quietly compliant, and that unnerves Angela far more than the injury, which is hardly something she’s unused to dealing with.  (Amélie so quiet isn’t, either, but these episodes are becoming less and less frequent as time passes.) It is only when they are sitting on the loveseat - Angela has cleaned the cut and applied a topical anesthetic with her usual brisk efficiency and calm explanations of what she needs to do - that Amélie finally speaks.  

“I never saw the blood when I killed, not really, except the very first time.”

_ Oh. _

“Snipers work at an intentional level of remove from their targets,” Angela notes carefully, her hands steady at their task.  

“Yes.”  That is all Amélie says for several moments more.  

“What are you thinking about now?” Angela asks when the silence feels too heavy.  

“Gérard.”  The name is sighed more than spoken.  “I remember his death… like a nightmare about a friend who has simply moved away and stopped sending messages.  But I know it is real. I had his blood on my hands. I think… I was distraught, when Talon extracted me.” 

Angela thinks that is likely.  The Amélie they had ‘rescued’ from Talon after her kidnapping had been different, but not yet Widowmaker.  “How do you feel about it now?”

“As though I should feel more than I do.”  Her tone is still terribly distant, and empty.  Angela represses a shudder. 

“Your brain chemistry was something Talon spent a great deal of energy, time, and money altering, and emotional memory is primarily chemical.”  She finishes the neat row of sutures and wraps the sealed injury with gauze, then looks up to try to catch Amélie’s eyes. Amélie is still looking through her.  “Should I try to bring you back, now?” she asks, throat feeling tight. “Or let you stay and think for a while?” 

Finally, those cat-yellow eyes focus, finding her.  

“I would rather be where you are.”  


End file.
